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“Mmmmmmohmygod,” Buggy whined, peeking out between her fingers. This was so much worse than she had anticipated.
Who let Mihawk choose the movie?! Even their proko mushi looked disturbed by what it was currently projecting onto the opposite wall.
The couch they were currently sitting on dipped most where Crocodile was nonchalantly leaning against the backrest, smoking her cigar, golden hook resting in her lap. She seemed completely unbothered by the gory scene flashing across the screen.
Their difference in weight and size made it so that Buggy struggled not to slide over onto her lap, carefully counterbalancing her own weight by leaning her upper body to the side — which only made her trespass into Mihawk’s personal space instead.
The swordswoman, however, didn’t seem to mind, opting instead to stare at the unfolding horror before them over the rim of her wine glass with an expression of morbid curiosity.
Buggy felt simultaneously under- and overdressed between the two of them, fiddling nervously with the hem of her pajama sleeve.
Crocodile was wearing an emerald nightdress that coiled like scales around her voluptuous form, glossy hair elegantly slicked back, looking very suave — although the problem with this was that she knew she looked suave and from Buggy’s point of view therefore stopped looking suave and just looked like a big narcissistic egomaniac instead.
Glittering riches adorned her hand; mother-of-pearl, rubies, diamonds. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling.
Meanwhile Mihawk’s nightgown was gothic chic, sinister seductress, gritty mascara framing her overwordly eyes. Completely unfazed at sitting around nearly half-naked because she did it all the time, her uncovered abdomen layered with muscle, all taut strength whenever she tensed up.
The bright light from the screen in front of them outlined her features sharply, making her angular features stand out, all cuts and corners.
Between the femmes fatales sat a creature that brought balance to the laws of nature; the femme pathétique, if you will.
Buggy had clumsily pulled her blue tresses up into a messy ponytail, knees pulled up to her chest, clutching the popcorn bowl in her arms with a white-knuckled grip.
She was wearing her favorite pair of star-patterned shorts and striped socks, donning an expression of crippling dread as she tried to focus her attention on anything but the happenings on screen.
Her eyes wandered over the sexy silk-clad vampire, drawn to the enticing glint of the golden cross that dangled below her clavicle. Buggy tried her best not to ogle at her cleavage out of the corner of her eye and failed to be subtle about it.
“Eyes on the screen, clown,” Mihawk chided, taking another sip of her glass. Buggy immediately straightened, flustered, gulping and refocusing her gaze to the front.
They were the meanest, most insufferable, terrible, no good—
Crocodile and Mihawk had never even asked her what she wanted to watch! They had just discussed it right in front of her without ever bothering to ask for her input! And then they had maneuvered her to sit between them on the couch, completely ignoring her squeals of indignation, shoving a bowl of popcorn into her hands.
That was how Buggy had found herself in her current predicament, trapped between her big tiddied goth girlfriends with no discernible escape.
Mean, mean, mean!!!
“You seem skittish today,” Crocodile mused quietly, and Buggy froze as she felt the cold metal of her hook running through the blue hair that tumbled down her back, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
There was a knowing, evil glint in Crocodile’s gaze that filtered even through the cloud of gray smoke she exhaled. “Is the movie too scary for you?” she purred, her voice a teasing lilt.
“N-noooo…” Buggy lied, meekly shrinking farther into her seat, pleading with the cushions to just swallow her whole.
Her girlfriends were utter terrors!!! Intend on torturing her!!! What had she ever done to deserve this?!
( Except for blowing up some towns… and murdering some people… several decades of plundering… stepping on Captain Roger’s old hat… trying to execute a seventeen year old on said Captain’s execution platform…
You know. The ush. )
Crocodile clicked her tongue against her teeth.
“Don’t tell me that the Great Captain Buggy is scared by a little horror flick? Aren’t you the nightmare that haunts the peaceful waters of the East?” she drawled, raising a furrowed brow.
Buggy let out an anxious little giggle, bashfully waving her hands.
She knew that Crocodile just wanted to edge her on, but…
Well, yes, she had a point! She was the great, terrible scourge of the East Blue, a bombastic calamity, Buggy the Immortal, who struck fear into the hearts of men!!!
But she also really, really, really disliked horror movies!! Those two things didn’t have to be exclusive, damnit!!!
For as much as she liked to pretend in front of their gaggle of followers, she wasn’t a horrifying clown with razor-sharp teeth that ate marines for breakfast, she was a cute clown! An adorable clown! A clown that had no business watching movies such as these!
At one point, in a sudden fit of brilliance, she attempted to feign having fallen asleep, award-worthy snork-mimimis and everything — only to have Mihawk nudge her side, whispering into the shell of her ear, “Stay awake. This is where it gets interesting.”
Said ‘interesting’ consisted of more screams and mutilation and Buggy shivered, anxiously chewing on her fingernails.
To make matters worse, Mihawk shifted to get more comfortable — placing her long legs atop her own, crossing them. Effectively trapping Buggy in place.
Buggy still couldn’t quite work out whether their desire to keep her there with them was an affectionate gesture or a malevolent attempt at psychological torture… Although this inability was hardly her fault, considering that they had a track record for getting these two things confused on a semi-regular basis.
Buggy shifted where she sat, leveling a pleading glance up at Crocodile’s towering form as she whispered, “Can I leave? Pleaseeee?”
Crocodile tapped out excess ash from her cigar, unfazed. “Somebody needs to hold the popcorn.”
That was the great reason why she had to stay here?!
Buggy could spend her time doing far better things, like sleeping, or building bombs, or throwing knives at Shanks’ wanted poster, or—
Neither of them were even eating the damned popcorn!!!
Buggy angrily grabbed a handful of it and shoved it past her lips, crunching angrily on the few hard corns that hadn’t popped. Had they just brought it with them to keep her mouth busy?!
Slowing her chewing, Buggy came to the humiliating conclusion that this was likely the case.
Those awful, foul, evil—
"Hey." Crocodile reached over and tugged on Buggy’s hair. "She told you to pay attention."
Redirecting her focus onto the screen, where the protagonists were currently trying to escape whatever horrible monster was currently chasing after them, Buggy could actually pinpoint the moment some of her already scarce sanity slipped into the abyss.
Buggy needed a drink. Preferably something with a tiny umbrella in it.
Mihawk craned her neck to stare at her as she detached her upper body, golden eyes glowing unnaturally in the dim light. “Where do you think you are going?” she whispered ominously.
“To the, uh,” Buggy winced, fumbling for a quick excuse, “kitchen? ‘M thirsty.”
Nice one, brain. Nailed it.
“Bring me another wine then,” Mihawk ordered, holding her empty glass out towards her. Buggy almost quipped that she wasn’t her maid, go grab it yourself, damnit, but she stopped.
Yes! This was the perfect excuse to linger in the kitchen longer and miss more of that terrible movie, and Mihawk had practically handed it to her on a silver platter! Ha ha, suck it, movie!!
At least until Buggy was halfway towards the door, and Mihawk called “And hurry it up,” after her.
Urgh!
From the corner of her eye, she realized that Crocodile had also gotten up from the couch, probably to fetch another cigar.
“And hurry it up,” Buggy mockingly imitated Mihawk’s tone once in the adjacent private galley, grimacing to herself as she struggled with opening the wine.
After several minutes of sweat-inducing exertion, Buggy finally managed to uncork the burgundy bottle with her teeth, spitting the cork out onto the floor.
Then she thought better of it, realizing that Mihawk probably wouldn’t appreciate her fancy century-old vintages being manhandled. A cold shiver crept up her back, tickling alongside her spine.
She quickly fumbled for the corkscrew to get rid of the evidence, but realized with dismay that the teeth marks were too deep to be covered up.
Buggy then proceeded to act like any reasonable adult would; she opened the nearest porthole and chucked the cork out into the ocean, whistling innocently all the while.
Then she snatched both the bottle and the glass, filling it up in mid-air as she floated back towards their shared cabin.
Once she had reached the sofa, she gingerly placed the bottle down onto the table, hoping that no cork-related questions would be asked.
Mihawk, however, only playfully grabbed her chin in her palm, golden eyes appreciative. “Good girl,” she whispered, whisking the glass out of her grip.
Buggy blinked, dumbly.
She was almost forty, for fuck’s sake. Yet Buggy couldn’t help her knees turning into putty at those two words.
They were always so mean to her, teasing her and calling her those ridiculous nicknames that— Alright, alright, maybe that mean gimmick of theirs turned her on a little bit, but could you blame her?!
Buggy deflated and sunk down onto the couch, barely managing to reconnect her halves. She almost managed to forget about the horror movie even, Mihawk’s words spinning around her brain like the record of a broken music dial.
At least until somebody revved up a chainsaw, swinging it around with maniacal laughter while the protagonist begged and screamed for her life. Buggy grimaced. Seriously, could they tone it down?
“Boo,” came a whispered breath against the back of her neck.
“GYAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!“
Buggy startled, flying off into several pieces and launching the bowl of popcorn high into the air. She somehow managed to catch most of it by quickly splitting off her hands and making good use of her juggling skills.
Neither Crocodile nor Mihawk clapped, which, really? They weren’t going to acknowledge her wondrous acrobatic feat?! Mohji and Cabaji would’ve clapped.
“DON’T DO THAT!!!” Buggy screeched once the bowl was safely cradled in her lap again, chopping her torso in the middle to glare up at Crocodile, heart thudding furiously against her ribcage like an electrocuted badger’s.
Crocodile had switched to her sand form on purpose just to avoid making footsteps, cackling her peculiar stilted laugh as she materialized back on her seat.
Buggy, torn between bursting into tears and having a minor aneurysm, tried her best to take deep breaths in order to compose herself.
Really, this was no way to treat their better half!!! Or better one-third!!! Whatever!!!
For a while, Buggy just sniffled miserably into the bowl of popcorn, and Crocodile made an extremely half-hearted attempt to pet her head.
The smell of steel and graveyard roses wafted over.
Mihawk’s nails, cut short for her swordsmanship, danced over the exposed skin of Buggy’s knee, making her shiver.
“You are too noisy,” the older woman whispered as she traced the point where her hamstring muscles curved inward.
Buggy gulped hard, unable to help the goosebumps that bloomed in the wake of the black-painted fingernails.
“S-sorry…”
“Shhh.”
A moment of suspense swelled on the screen as the protagonist stumbled while running from the killer, desperately trying to get away.
( A bit cliché, no? Surely the esteemed reader will agree. )
Why did they even have to watch this movie in the dark? Such movies were made for watching while it was bright out!! Or, better yet, not watching them in the first place!!!
The killer then decided to jumpscare the audience, and Buggy let out a blood curdling shriek, practically hopping onto Crocodile’s lap.
“I CAN’T!” Buggy theatrically sobbed into her boobs. “I just can’t do this! It‘s too scary, damnit!”
Crocodile rolled her eyes and looped her hook under her shirt, picking her off and effectively making her dangle in front of her in mid-air like a wet kitten she had picked up in the middle of a rainstorm.
“Too bad,” she smirked, belladonna-sweet, plopping her back down onto her seat.
“Why can’t we watch something else?! Hawky-darling,” Buggy whined miserably. “Croccy-baby…”
“Call us that one more time and we will throw you off the ship,” they monotoned in sync.
It seemed… practiced.
Had they practiced that?
WHY WOULD THEY PRACTICE THAT?!
“I won’t be able to sleep tonight, and it’s all your fault!” Buggy continued to complain, accusingly pointing her finger at Mihawk.
“I know of quite a few methods to make you sleep soundly,” the swordswoman retorted, smirking into her wine as she downed the rest of her glass, which was just—just… Hmpf!!!
Buggy was only half-aware of the ending of the movie, her brain being too occupied by thoughts of aforementioned methods.
The screen flickered to black soon after, and she shot up at the first nano-second of the credits.
“It’s done! It’s over! Let’s go to bed! Gyahahaha!” Buggy laughed, shrill and obnoxious and thoroughly relieved that Davy Jones had listened to her prayers at last, already dancing across the room to turn their projector denden off.
Mihawk frowned, pulling out another disk from behind the couch.
“What do you mean? There is still the second part.”
Buggy’s left eye twitched ever so slightly. She briefly considered committing yet another act of environmental pollution by throwing the disk overboard, but ultimately decided against it on account of not wanting to follow suit.
The swordswoman mustered her, a flummoxed frown upon her face. “Did you truly find it scary? I thought it was rather delightful.”
Crocodile shrugged. “The entrails looked pretty fake.”
Buggy felt like pulling out her hair. “What’s wrong with you, you flashy creeps?!”
Mihawk let out a soft sigh and proceeded to pour herself another glass of wine. “You could have always hidden your face in our shoulders if it became too much for you, but alas…”
Buggy raised a doubtful eyebrow, huffing.
Then she stopped, noting that Mihawk wore a most curious expression that almost resembled… disappointment?
The clown squinted.
Gears began to churn, shuddering off some dust.
Finally, the little lightbulb in her brain flickered to life, carrying with it a sobering realization.
Buggy blinked, let out a snort of maniacal, unbelieving laughter, sucked in a sharp breath of air, and finally exploded.
“YOU JUST WANTED ME TO HUG YOU?! THAT’S WHY YOU FORCED ME TO WATCH THIS AWFUL MOVIE?!”
Buggy shot upwards and floated above the two dark accomplices, wanting to yell at them both, huffing and snarling and punching the air, so she did just that.
Mihawk rubbed her temple, wearing an expression of nobly resigned suffering that would be more suitable for a martyr tied to a stake.
Crocodile unfazedly asked “Are you quite done?” and looped her hook around her middle to fish her back down from the ceiling.
Buggy huffed and theatrically crossed her arms, refusing to look at either of them.
What the fuck had happened to transparency, open communication, and active listening?!
Normal partners would pretend to yawn and stretch and put their arms around their girlfriend’s shoulders to let her hide in their side while watching a scary movie, but no, not these two.
Buggy was pretty sure they wouldn’t admit that they enjoyed and sought her affection, ever, even under torture, and least of all to her face, so they just went ahead and played their little mind games that she had no choice but to play along to.
By the seas, they were both such mean, two-faced assholes.
( Buggy couldn’t get enough of them. )
“You may choose the next movie after this one,” Mihawk said, completely unapologetic, mind you, as she leaned over to kiss her temple.
“It’s going to have rainbows and glitter and you are going to absolutely loathe it,” Buggy hissed out between her teeth.
“How diabolical,” Crocodile acknowledged, upon her lips a fanged smirk.
They did end up watching the second movie that evening, which turned out to be even worse than the first one, somehow.
At least Buggy took every opportunity to hide behind her girlfriends this time around, which approximately matched the runtime of the film.
Judging by their matching smug expressions, they clearly thought they had unlocked the secret formula for infinite clown affection — although Buggy also got cuddles out of it, and ontop of that had gotten them to agree to watch a movie of her choosing, so technically, victory was all hers.
Their mushi yawned once the movie was over, receiving the remainder of the popcorn for a job well done.